


Customers For Blackfriars Should Alight Here And Continue Their Journey At Street Level

by berlynn_wohl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Kink Meme, London, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-26
Updated: 2011-08-26
Packaged: 2017-10-26 09:33:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/281472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/berlynn_wohl/pseuds/berlynn_wohl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I didn't claim to have actually <i>done</i> anything. You only asked me if I'd moved.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customers For Blackfriars Should Alight Here And Continue Their Journey At Street Level

A/N: This is a fill for a [prompt on the kinkmeme](http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/6487.html?thread=32947031#t32947031). Anon asked for “everyday life for Londoners.”

  


The door was slightly ajar. John pushed it open, walked through to the kitchen, and set his things on the kitchen table before returning to stand before the sofa, where Sherlock was languishing in his pyjamas. He studied Sherlock’s position. “You haven’t moved since I left this morning.”  
   
“I have done. I just prefer to lie like this.”  
   
“So tell me about your day, then.”  
   
“I didn’t claim to have actually _done_ anything. You only asked if I’d moved.”  
   
“Nothing turned up today?”  
   
“Nothing interesting. I’ve just been sitting here rotting, waiting for you to return. The physical rotting I’m not so concerned about, but my poor brain...”  
   
“Why don’t you get up, then, and tell me about _my_ day.”  
   
Happy to have the exercise, Sherlock rolled off the sofa and righted himself. John stood before him, empty-handed and still. Sherlock walked round him twice, looked him up and down, touched his skin and hair and clothes, sniffed at him.  
   
Finally, he said, “You read the Metro on the Tube this morning. You’ve washed your hands since then, but there’s still newsprint at the corners of your fingernails. You got rained on.”  
   
“That’s cheating. You could have looked out the window and known it rained.”  
   
“Yes, but between the flat and the Tube you got wet because you forgot your umbrella. You used the Metro to cover your head after you left the Underground. Your hair only got wet once, but your clothes and shoes got wetter on the longer walk to the surgery. They’ve only just dried completely.”  
   
“Fair enough. Go on.”  
   
Sherlock leaned in close enough to smell John’s breath. “You went to Pret A Manger for lunch and had a wild crayfish and rocket sandwich, and sweet-potato crisps. On the way home, the sun came out, so you got off the Tube a stop early and walked through the park.” He pinched a fragment of willow leaf from John’s hair and showed it to him.  
   
Thinking he was finished, Sherlock started toward the kitchen to put the kettle on. John stopped him. “You’re not finished yet. Tell me what I bought at Tesco.”  
   
“Trick question.” Sherlock smirked at John’s simple attempt at deception. “You didn’t go to Tesco, you went to Boots. Nice try, though. You bought everything we’re down to our last fifteen to twenty percent of: shampoo, paracetamol, and washing-up liquid.”  
   
“Dead on,” John sighed.  
   
“Also, you bought a copy of The Big Issue, because you got off the Tube at Regent’s Park today, and the man who wears the Superman shirt and cape sells them at the Regent’s Park station, and you’ve got a weakness because Superman was your favourite when you were a child. You didn’t buy any food, though. Not that I’m concerned, as you’re buying me Italian for dinner.”  
   
“I didn’t buy any food because there’s food in the fridge.”  
   
“That last part wasn’t a deduction. You’re just going to buy me Italian for dinner. But don’t worry.” Sherlock flounced off to dress. “We’ll also do the thing that I _have_ deduced that you want to do tonight.”  
   
John said, “And that is...?”  
   
“To shag me rotten,” Sherlock called cheerfully over his shoulder.


End file.
